


raining knives, like, all the time

by zinthos



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Also like maybe this trope is overdone but I feel like it's a rite of passage or something, M/M, Prompto pls chill, dating but not dating but actually dating, literally that's how it is, very light and mentioned without actually naming him but Nyx/Luna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-16 06:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10565913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinthos/pseuds/zinthos
Summary: Someone shouldreallytell Noctis that isnothow relationships work.





	1. the one with them holding hands in lunafreya's car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how serious this fic is, who knows. but it's three chapters, in my head, and i'll be darn damned if i can't finish something as short as that.
> 
> in the meanwhile, i'll go play video games. and also write some more of the one fic i'm actually 100% invested in.

Prompto is going to die.

That’s it, that’s basically all there is to it. This is how the story begins because, in actuality, this is how the story is going to end.

Prompto Argentum, sixteen-year-old chocobo enthusiast, is going to die. He can already feel the end nearing. It comes in the format of his face _burning_ and his ears _scalding_ and all the _blood_ just rushing to his head because this conversation?

This one right here, that he’s having with his ridiculous, lazy, best friend, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, in front of not only his Shield and Advisor, Gladiolus and Ignis, but also King Regis’ ward, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret? _That_ conversation?

Yeah, it’s supposed to be private. And since it’s _not_ and there are three very good friends basically in the shitstorm that _Noctis_ created as softly and lazily as is his entire existence, Prompto has been led to this very moment of his very young life.

His death.

Prompto is dying.

But before he flat lines… It all began like this…

 

* * *

 

If he’s ever going to downright admit and point fingers, he’d point them at Luna. She’s a war refugee, taken in by the Caelums during their messy escape from a burning Tenebrae. But to open _that_ door is to commit for a mess of history and a few hours of trying to untangle knots of misinformation created through word of mouth.

The point is that Lunafreya was taken in by King Regis, legally, as King, making her his ward rather than his daughter. Of course, that’s all legal and even Prompto can totally tell they had a very nice parent-child relationship, perhaps much smoother than Regis’ with Noctis, who’s at the peek of his adolescence. Luna, thankfully, is four years older. 

But back to the matter at hand. This is all, technically, _her_ fault since _she’s_ the one that lost track of her precious puppy, Pryna, all those years ago and _Prompto_ ’d been the one to find her, heal her and care for her until she’d been strong enough to run off again and back to Luna’s side.

 _Luna_ is the one that sent the letter of gratitude, telling him, _oh, hey, Prompto Argentum, if I’m not mistaken, you are in Noctis’ year? It would be pretty cool if you befriended him_.

Not her exact words, of course, but _that’s basically what she meant_. And so Prompto, ever the pleaser, and also because he’d admired Noct from a distance, what with him being so cool and quiet and worst of all _lonely_ , did just that.

All that was in middle school, the flick to the domino setting off the effect. Noctis and Prompto were a unit after that; inseparable.

So of course Prompto just _had_ to fall in love.

Insomnia is high on the hustle and bustle, much as it always in when they’re let out of school. They walk side by side, quiet and close, the side of their arms brushing as they walk. Noctis is entertaining a small carton of juice as they walk and Prompto multitasks on walking and catching up with one of his games.

It also helps that Noct guides him; grunts and shoves, pushes and nudges and sometimes speaks around the straw in between his teeth.

Soon, they’re heading up the sleek, new building where his apartment is located. Prompto shivers a bit at the lack of noise, the sound of moving cars and the conversation of passersby suddenly mute and replaced by elevator music and air conditioner.

“I’m beat,” Noctis drawls, closing his eyes and dropping his head down onto Prompto’s shoulder. “Could go for a nap right now.”

Prompto is cloud of mystery because this boy right here may frankly be the love of his life, young as he may be to know anything about that, but he manages to stay cool at the contact, heartbeat in check, cheeks only warm but mind racing.

It’s not like it’s anything new, anyway. Noct likes to rest against him, dozing off even while standing so long as Prompto’s next to him to keep him from dropping to the ground. And, honestly, when is Prompto _not_ with him?

The elevator hums to a stop and Noct groans as he lifts his head up, inhaling hard and refusing to open his eyes. Prompto follows him out the cool silver doors, his eyes on his back, only subconsciously staring at the curve of his spine, the narrowness of his waist that their uniform shirt and the black blazer only seem to accentuate.

When he looks away, Lunafreya, sitting on the black leather couch, is grinning at him.

“Afternoon, boys,” she greets, sparing Noct a glance and turning back to Prompto when she’s satisfied that the Prince’s left them for the kitchen. She waggles her eyebrows at him. 

This time, Prompto does indeed feel his cheeks grow obnoxiously hot. He ignores her, kicks his shoes off and drops his bookbag somewhere he can easily grab it from when the dynamic Team Mom duo consisting of Ignis and Luna demand he and Noct do their homework before even _thinking_ about playing King’s Knight for seven hours straight.

“Hey, Luna,” Noct begins, coming out of the kitchen with a leftover tart from the night before. Baked by Ignis, of course. He licks at the crumbs at the corner of his mouth, only sparing the mess he’s making on the ground a glance. “On a scale of one to ten, how fast do you think Dad will know I came over to the Citadel just to steal his car keys?”

“Noctis, you don’t know how to drive yet,” Luna says, rolling her pale blue eyes.

“Um. Wow. First of all, _yes_ I do.” He takes another bite of his tart, stretching his arm out and letting the bitten treat hover just shy from Prompto’s mouth. Instinctively, Prompto takes a bite. “Second of all, that didn’t even answer my question.”

“He’d know the moment you set foot into the Citadel,” she replies, turning the page to the magazine she’d been reading before they’d arrived. 

“Boo, that’s bogus,” Noct laments, taking one last bite of the tart and offering what’s left to Prompto. Neither of them are really into sharing their food, but with each other? Totally. “I really wanted to take it for a drive… I’m tired of sneaking off with Ignis’.”

“Something tells me,” Luna eyes them both, her expression accusing but amused all in one, “Ignis isn’t aware of this.”

“Probably.” Noct grins.

Next to him, still chewing, Prompto looks just as amused but also innocent. Except he’s not innocent at all and Luna _knows_ this as she shakes her head and looks down at her magazine.

“Let us borrow yours,” Noct finally says, leaning forwards on the back of the couch where she and Prompto sit.

“Absolutely not,” Luna almost hisses, if someone like Luna were even capable of such a thing.

“What? But _why_?” 

“Because it is a beautifully custom made crystalline-blue—and need I remind you, that neither of us even _knew_ such a color _existed_ until this car—this old school convertible with just as beautiful beige colored leather interior and your father gifted her to me for my twentieth birthday which happens to be _my current age_ and so _not long ago_ and I will _not_ have you two rowdy little hormonal boys ki—“

“ _We get the point_!” Prompto’s shout cuts Luna’s rant short, his cheeks bright red and his freckles standing out against the flushed coloring of his skin. Noct is still wide-eyed and clearly processing the fact that Luna can get worked up about _cars_.

Noctis pouts at her for a moment before he mutters about needing another tart to bury the disappointment he’s feeling in his stomach. 

Alone in the living room again, Lunafreya turns back to Prompto, all smiles and as if she had not just fought tooth and nail over a toy her much younger sibling was trying to take for himself. “So,” she sighs, happily and he really doesn’t like the brow waggling. “When will you tell him?”

“Uh?”

“Oh please,” Luna giggles. “You are head over heels for Noctis. It’s written all over your _face_. And, truly. Prompto, I _adore_ you but I have to keep myself from the giggles.”

Prompto sags in his seat and lets out a long, tortured groan. “Oh man. I really _am_ hopeless.”

“Entirely,” Luna agrees, nodding. “But you’re _adorable_ , so it balances itself out.”

Noctis returns with a plate of the tarts, twisting his body to keep them out of reach when Luna tries to grab one. “ _Sorry_ , but I only share with good, wholesome people that _share back with me_.”

He takes his seat on Prompto’s other side, shifting around so the small of his back is against the couch’s arm, his front facing the others and his legs stretched over Prompto’s lap. It’s a comfortable position and one Prompto’s very used to, so all he does is lift his arm up and out of his legs’ way and then places them back down over them. 

Lunafreya gives him a _look_ and Prompto promptly ignores it.

This is how Ignis finds them as he slips in through the door, briefcase in hand and attention on the shoes he’s kicking off his feet. 

“Evening,” he greets, looking at them.

Noct’s napping, curled up around Prompto like a cat. This is also not new and both Ignis and Lunafreya stare at them with identical expressions. Prompto busies himself with the game he’d been playing on his phone.

“Hm, well that isn’t out of the ordinary,” he says, tone light and teasing. He walks to the living room, where they sit, and drops the briefcase. “I’ve brought some documents from the Citadel he should read. Perhaps, Luna, you can help me with that.”

“ _Prompto_ will be much more effective, if you ask me,” Luna says with a smile. “But I will do my best, Ignis.”

“Thank you.” He heads to the kitchen next. 

Luna can just as easily cook for them, since she spends a lot of her time in Noct’s apartment. And, honestly, the only reason why it isn’t the pigsty it can normally be is only because of her constant presence and Ignis’ support when she launches into those… _rants_ of hers. Luna is so soft and kind but then she flips, like a coin, and she’s _scary_.

But, really, Luna can just as easily cook for them. It’s just that Ignis _likes_ to do it. Says it’s very relaxing from the stress of university, his lessons and whatnots as Noct’s Advisor and just about life in general, Prompto supposes.

In his opinion, he’ll eat anything just as long as it’s not produced by him or Noct. He can disassemble and reassemble a radio, but put him in the kitchen and a pan will go up in flames and he won’t even be near it. Noct’s just. Well. He’s _Noct_. 

As if on cue, he inhales sharply, lets it out softly, with a softer hum. It grabs Prompto’s attention and he looks down at him, the curve of his ridiculous long lashes, his nose, royally passed down to help with his amazing good looks. His cheekbones, his eyebrows. The soft curve of his lips. The set of his jaw. And the wild, mess of dark hair.

Prompto fights the urge to run his fingers through them. That’s for when it’s just the two of them. When Noct’s curled up on him or against him and he naps and Prompto uses this time to indulge in little things like soft caresses.

To do them now is to have Lunafreya grinning at him. And it’s not even gonna be a malicious grin or anything. Prompto doesn’t think Luna can have ill intentions even if she tried. It’s that it’ll be a _knowing_ smile.

 _You’re so in love with him, it’s pathetic_. That’s what the smile’s gonna say.

Prompto can stand self-deprecation on his own, but to have it triggered by someone that means no harm? Hell no.

He sighs softly, letting himself entertain thoughts and questions of what world could Noct ever see him as more than just his best friend and if in that same world, Prompto’s gonna be worth that.

 

* * *

 

When Luna and Ignis leave and after all three of them manage to get Noct to at least _skim_ some of the documents that were brought to him, they slouch on the couch and play a bit of video games.

Noct sways his leg from side to side and each time it sways in Prompto’s direction, their thighs press and their knees bump together. Honestly, Noct’s half on top of him again, leaning his back against Prompto’s side, his head on his arm. It’s an odd position but Noct shows no sign of it being uncomfortable.

“We’re totally gonna sneak off with Luna’s car, aren’t we?” Prompto asks, never looking away from the screen.

“Yup.”

“She’s gonna kick your ass with her Trident, you know…”

Noctis is quiet for a moment. Then he shrugs. “Whatever, man, it’s worth the risk. That car’s _nice_.”

Prompto grins at him when Noct shifts to look up at him in his weird position. 

“Do you not want to, though?”

“I never said that!”

“Because I was thinking some late night Kenny’s, some cruisin’ and then we can park over that hill we found the other time.”

“Oh, the stars look so _nice_ from that hill,” Prompto breathes.

“Yeah.”

“Okay fine, let’s do it.”

“Okay. Friday.”

“It’s a date!” Prompto laughs at his choice of word, but it’s a self-deprecating laugh. A guy can only hope, right? _Right_.

Noctis says nothing of it, though, and they play with their usual antics. Noctis reaches over and button smashes on Prompto’s controller when he seems to not like how the outcome is going. Prompto shoves him away, half falling on top of him. They always end up on the ground, back to back and concentration intact, as if they’d never got lost in their foolishness.

Later, when it’s so dark out and the stars _glimmer_ , even despite Insomnia being a restless city filled with skyscrapers that shine like jewels and neon signs like flash delirium, he and Noctis make their way to his room. 

This isn’t new either, and sometimes, in the solitary confinement of his small room and his small bed, Prompto likes to think back t the first time Noct told him to stay and then laughed when Prompto was getting comfortable on the couch. The bed fits two, he’d said. Now it goes on without question; a habit. Easy. Comfortable.

Prompto doesn’t blush and his heart doesn’t stutter but his mind _races_. And that’s who the enemy is here, it’s a thing to remember. Prompto’s mind likes to play wicked games, be the devil’s advocate and screw up all the smooth sailing that goes on in there and cause sea storms.

Noctis is already under the covers when Prompto returns from brushing his teeth and, when he rolls to his side of the bed, he dims the lighting of his phone so he can check some social media apps until he’s hit the Beyond Tired side of his internal meter.

When he does and he turns his phone off, plugs it in to charge and sets it on the nightstand, Noct’s already rolled closer, his legs looking for his, intertwining them like some weird leg braid that’s also not new between them and also really comfortable.

He throws an arm over his waist. Messy. Careless. Not at all intimate. But he also buries his face in the space right between Prompto’s shoulder blades.

And then he’s asleep.

Prompto basks in the warmth, in the familiarity. He falls asleep right after too.

 

* * *

 

When Friday comes around, it's just another normal day.

He and Noct head to school, opting out to walk rather than have Ignis pick them up bright and early on his way to University. The walk’s nice because the day’s nice too. Not too warm, not too cool. Insomnia’s just waking up after another long night, joggers on the run, parents ushering children and the like. They all give the Prince a glance and if he catches them looking, they wave.

A normal day despite their plan to steal Luna’s car for the night.

Classes begin and, as per usual, Noct starts off good. He takes his notes and he studies. But as soon as he’s had _enough_ , he knocks out on his desk and Prompto takes notes for the both of them. Which is easier said than done and that’s only because Prompto has to concentrate on his writing, make sure it’s nice and clear so Noct can read.

After school finds them at the arcade.

“She’s sneaking around with one of the Glaives,” Noct tells him, his eyes focused on the screen, one hand wrapped around the joystick, the other finger smashing between the red or blue buttons. “She thinks no one knows but she forgets that _I_ know _her_.”

“You caught them making out, didn’t you?”

“It was the grossest thing in my life,” Noct whines.

“I wouldn’t ever think Luna’s… _like that_. I always figured she was so Proper. Like. Capitalized and stuff.”

Noct snorts at this and turns to him, his smile amused and disbelieving. Luna and Noct share such a sibling relationship; it’s hard to believe Noct ever had a huge crush on her when he was younger. Prompto wasn’t around for that but Noct told him once. Entirely embarrassed, of course.

“Luna’s as much a girl as I am a guy,” he shrugs. “She probably has… you know… _urges_. But I don’t fucking like thinking about that stuff. Regardless, she’ll be out by seven, won’t return— _if_ she returns, I haven’t estimated where she draws the line, but this is Luna so I’m thinking she’s not sleazy. God I hope she’s not—until like _maybe_ after midnight.”

Prompto nods his head, listens.

“She won’t take her car, she’ll get picked up.” Noct looks… beautiful, speaking in hush tones, his eyes on the screen, his face illuminated by it. It’s ominous and. Concentrate Prompto. Concentrate. “I know where she keeps a spare key so we can sneak in, get the car keys and then it’s Kenny’s and stargazing for us.”

“Solid,” Prompto nods.

Noctis gives him a crooked grin and they dispatch themselves, playing video games here and there and making sure they stay at the top of the scoreboards.

By the time they leave, Noct lazily drops an arm around Prompto’s shoulder and they walk like this towards his apartment complex. This, like everything else about them and their relationship, is nothing new and Prompto’s heart does not flutter but his mind _races_.

Because sometimes. 

 _Sometimes_ he steps out of line and he just _feels_ like they’re a thing. An Item. And like, okay! Sure! In a way they are but not with the boundary of hey man just friends that are so close they’re stuck together. But an actual, legitimate Item.

But Noctis is _Noctis_ , Prince of Lucis, heir to the throne. And he’s just Prompto and the most he has to him are the faded out silver scars reminding him of the boy he used to be and the work he had to do to get him to be the teenager he is now.

And, by far, that’s not much compared to Noct.

Noct is… such a great person.

And Prompto’s still having a hard time getting stuck in the stickiness of the residue of his dark thoughts. He’s got anxiety and a bad problem measuring his self-worth.

And right now? Yeah, he most definitely thinks he is not worth to be an Item with Noct. Good thing they aren’t, huh?

“Well, you got all quiet,” Noct comments, his arm still draped around him, his stride sluggish and his head tilted so he can look at him.

Prompto snickers, self-consciously. “Sorry, buddy. I was just thinking about tonight!”

“Yeah?” Noct asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Totally. It’s different than just taking Iggy’s car! Like, this is _Luna_ and she’s gonna kick our ass and like I keep thinking she likes us too much for that but the truth is that won’t stop her.”

Noctis laughs but not at all scared of that outcome. So like him. He’s a Prince and Princes should be ready to put their life on the line. Even for a _crystalline-blue_ car to drive around the Crown City. 

At the apartment, nothing special happens except Noct curls up around Prompto and naps. And for a while Prompto watches him sleep, much like he always does, before he curls to fit against him and naps along with him. 

This, too, much like everything about them, isn’t new.

Nightfall has extended over the skies, bringing forth the stars and the crescent moon. Prompto wakes up to Noct sleepily watching him. At this part, his heart _does_ flip and stumble. This isn’t something he’s used to. The gleam in the steel-blue of his irises, darkened by the night and the frame of his long, dark lashes.

Prompto blinks, looking back at him. And after a moment, he starts to think Noct’s fallen asleep like this and he’s feeling a _little_ creeped out. But then Noctis shifts and touches the pad of his forefinger against his chin, runs it along the smooth line of his jaw and then back.

“We should go,” he murmurs, lips just barely moving.

Prompto is breathing hard, sitting up as Noct rolls off the couch and heads to the kitchen. He touches his hand to his jaw, where Noct had touched him.

Maybe he was… Maybe…

Shaking his head, Prompto stands up and runs a hand through his hair. That tiny little moment forever buried under mountains of doubt, amongst other things.

They head to Luna’s apartment after changing out of their rumpled school uniforms and into something comfier. Noctis gropes around for the key he knows Luna keeps just beneath the surface of the dirt of large and gorgeous succulent she keeps by her front door.

“Wait!” Prompto calls when Noct, forefinger and thumb dirt-smudged, managed to open the front door. He turns to look at him, eyes wide and lips parted as if to speak. Prompto takes out his camera, flips it so the lens is pointing at them and moves close to Noct, so close, their heads touch. “If tomorrow’s our funeral, let’s take a selfie for everyone to remember the cause of our death!”

Noct laughs and Prompto takes the picture.

 

* * *

 

Cruising around Insomnia is like rushing through a whirlpool of colors. For all her sleek, glimmering black gemstones, the city bleeds shades of red, blue and yellow too.

They’re sixteen and pretty stupid, really. But Noct was taught to drive by both Ignis and Gladio, yet despite this, he drives recklessly. Fast and sharp. He stops at signs like an afterthought, jerking and making them jump forward in their seats.

It’s hilarious and the flip of Prompto’s stomach has more to do with Noct’s hand almost in his rather than the crazy driving.

He doesn’t even know how _that_ works. His hand almost in his. It just… does. It’s suddenly near, half curling around his, pinky and ring finger over his own. Like it just happened and Noctis is so comfortable around him that he doesn’t even care.

Noct does a mean, messy u-turn to park right in front of a Crow’s Nest at the southern side of the city. Prompto follows him inside where they both drape, lazily on the long counter upon sitting down on the stools.

Their orders are pretty straightforward: three orders of fries, two meat pie sandwiches and two of the larger sized soft drinks.

The diner’s not all that full, considering it’s twenty minutes to eleven. Prompto’d thought there’d be more drunks out trying to sober up with greasy food. Or people on dates. Or snacking before or after a movie or whatever.

“Here ya go,” the waiter tells them, halfway into stifling a yawn.

“Cool,” Noct replies, sliding the bag with their stuff closer to Prompto and handing the waiter his card. 

Prompto opens his mouth to give a protest but Noct waves it off. “S’on me. You can pay next time.”

And he’s lost in the twinkle of his star-striking eyes, all Prompto can do is dumbly nod.

At the hill that they’d found a while back, Noct parks the car right on top of the mound and leads Prompto to the backseats where they open up all their food and start to quietly eat. He knows Noct won’t say it, but they’re both being _extra_ careful in not dropping a single thing as so to keep the car clean.

If Luna’s going to kill them, let their death be swift and painless.

Prompto looks up at the sky and grins at the violet, how it lightens near the edges, caught under the Wall’s influence. The stars are fierce and relentless as they glimmer, spread like stardust. Like freckles. It’s beautiful and, after cleaning his hands from the grease, Prompto leaves his food for a second to snap a couple of pictures from where they sit. 

Noctis left the radio on, lowered so it’s not overpowering. But the tunes humming out adds to the atmosphere they’ve created and Noctis grins, as if understanding his observation. 

They stay there for hours, Prompto’s sure.

 “I’m thinking Wiz’s for the first week of summer,” Noctis says. “They have a caravan we can rent. We can stay there for the week. Chocobo raising. We can adopt one.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Prompto breathes. “I’ll start thinking of names.”

“I like the name Flappy.”

“No.”

“What?” Noctis grumbles a bit. “Flappy is a _nice_ name!”

 “We are _not_ naming our child, Baby Chocobo, _Flappy.”_

Noctis snorts for a second, his smile curling at the edges like it does when he’s being all bashful. He says nothing more on the matter but his hand somehow finds Prompto’s again.

And this? This is absolutely new and has Prompto all jittery inside, his heart a stuttering mess and his mind at work to fend off any damn hope the warmth of Noct’s palm against his is causing.

But he also doesn’t pull away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter's title: the one where noct forgets about personal space.


	2. the one where noct forgets about personal space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay something i've learned while writing this: 1) im bad at keeping my narration voice intact 2) pining prompto but also normal chill prompto that has a bit of anxiety is HARD to write even with myself as an example 3) lmao 
> 
> ps. i love lunafreya nox fleuret..... my daughter....

“Irresponsible!” 

Prompto stares, wide-eyed, as Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, ward of King Regis Lucis Caelum, paces in front of them, the giant (or, giant in Prompto’s perspective, anyway) flat screen behind her— _black_ because it’s _off_ and they are _not_ allowed to watch or, by the _Astrals_ , play anything. The coffee table separating her from them is stacked with homework, test preps and political documents, treaties and who knows _what_ else she’s managed to get her hands on.

He can _feel_ Noctis withering next to him.

“Truly!” She nods as if she needs to agree with herself a third time. “And not just that, boys, but _betraying my trust_ —“

“You have a _key_ to _my_ apartment, Luna,” Noct interrupts because he clearly think the shit they’re in isn’t deep enough. “I didn’t even _give_ you a key!”

“—and _breaking into my apartment_!” She points a finger at Noctis. Prompto opens his mouth to tell her the shade of blue she’s coated her nails with is _nice_ but she then points the finger at him and Prompto clamps his mouth shut with an audible clank of his teeth. “To take _my_ beautiful _crystalline-blue_ car with the _beige-leather interior_ out for a nightly cruise to… to partake in your _shenanigans_. Your… _things_.” 

“What _kinds_ of things?” Noct asks, an eyebrow raised and a look of amusement but also confusion on his face.

Prompto groans and sags in his seat, digging the heel of his palm into his eye. Just what does she even think they _do_? His cheeks grow impossibly warm.

Luna pauses, eyes closed as she inhales as a means to gain composure. She’s smiling at them when she next opens her eyes, pale blue with hints of yellow and orange. “You brought her back to me in one piece and, by the Astrals, _clean_.”

“I want to understand what she thinks we _do_ ,” Noctis mutters as he turns to Prompto and then snaps back to Luna when she smacks a hand to the work on the coffee table.

“And that’s why I will _not_ tell your father. He’s a busy man and he does not need any more woe coming from _you._ ” Her eyes sparkle then, just when Prompto’s admiring how pretty she is, with her blond braid looping around her head to tie in with her blond ponytail, her _pretty_ eyes framed by lashes a shade lighter than his own dirty-blond ones. “As the eldest here, I will take the matters of your punishment into my own hands.”

Noct doesn’t have a sarcastic response or any kind of response to this and he’s _finally_ starting to look as terrified as Prompto actually _feels_. Luna taps a finger to one of the stacks on the table and both Prompto and Noctis slowly lower their attention to it.

“Chop, chop, boys,” Luna sings. “There won’t be _any_ other source of fun for a while. Get ready to get your _study_ on.” 

Prompto would have been worried about his best friend; what with how he slouches so much he drops to the ground in a pool of misery. But Prompto’s gulping and nodding his head when Luna fixes her attention and her wickedly kind smile on him.

That was nearly a month and a half ago and it was the most torturous blur to ever slowly whirl by. Now, Prompto leans his head against the cool wall of the elevator lifting him up to Noct’s private apartment.

He’s got a bag slung over his shoulder with a week’s worth of clothes and then some for Just in Case scenarios. His sunglasses, a gift from Noct last year, rest on top of his very messy blond head.

The elevator sings as it arrives to his desired floor and Prompto waltzes in after knocking on the door—unlocked because Noct already knows he’s due to arrive soon and Noct always makes the effort to stop whatever it is he does while alone in his apartment to unlock the door so Prompto can let himself in upon arrival. 

“Noct Noct,” Prompto calls, chuckling at his _super very lame_ joke. But one that he still affectionately enjoys, despite how overused. Always switching Noct for the word ‘knock’ travels back to freshman year, when Prompto finally grew the courage to downright befriend him and stop softcore wishing for the friendship to just _happen_ and.

 “I’m here, loser,” Noctis calls from the living room.

After kicking his sneakers off and dropping his bag down with Noct’s, he strolls into the living room, expecting him to be binge playing one of the many RPG games he owns in favor of doing anything remotely productive. Noct likes those, RPG games, and he even has a tendency to replay them for no reason whatsoever other than to just do it. Prompto wouldn’t mind except some of them have the _worst_ endings _ever_. In the sad kind of way.

But what Noct’s doing is watching TV shows he’d queue up on his streaming website account, sprawled on his couch and some bags of chips and boxes of cookies and small boxes of juice lying around him.

 “Heyaz,” Prompto calls, staring at the screen.

“Hey,” Noct replies, pausing the show and stretching and by the soft groan and the various popping sounds, it’d seem it’s the first he’s moved in a while. “S’nice to have my TV back. Luna’s… Luna’s _evil_.”

Prompto laughs a bit but he also doesn’t disagree. For all her immaculate kindness, Luna can be so _mean_ and _sneaky_.

“Why are you all the way over there?” Noctis yawns and stands up from the couch, stretching out again and groaning with approval at the burn in his joints. “I’m halfway through episode six. You said you stopped at ten, right? So you’re gonna hav’ta rewatch while I catch up.”

 “Well that’s a bummer,” Prompto blows a raspberry, rolling onto the couch and feeling how warm Noct’s left it.

He lies on his stomach, listening to Noct continue to throw accusations because _no one_ , Blondie, _no one_ told you to watch ahead. A moment later, Noct appears and he drops down on top of him, back to back. Prompto groans at the added weight and nearly groans again when a small juice box is held in front of him.

“I don’t want apple juice,” he grunts.

“It’s fruit punch,” Noct corrects and when Prompto takes it in hand, they both shift around to more comfortable positions that have Prompto still under Noct but with only half of Noctis’ weight on him. “Oh. Right. So we’re leaving tomorrow, at sunrise. Specs and Gladio will come for us by then.” 

Prompto knows that, originally, it was just going to be the two of them visiting Wiz’s chocobo farm but then, what kind of Crownsguard would let the Prince out alone without, well, _guards_? 

“Sounds legit,” Prompto says around the straw in between his teeth. “I’ve been thinking about names.”

 “Flappy is _fine_ ,” Noctis stresses.

“Dude. We’re _not_ naming our chocobo baby _Flappy_.” Prompto shifts to look at him from over his shoulder. “First of all, man, it sounds like Flabby. And like I feel that’s going to make our chocobo baby self-conscious and it’s going to grow up isolated and grow depression and—“

Noct shoves a hand against his mouth. It would be a more, ah, _wow_ kind of thing if there wasn’t a juice box in between Prompto’s lips and Noct’s palm.

“I get it.” Noct’s steel-blue eyes are shiny under the lighting of his apartment, Prompto notices. “We _won’t_ name our bird child Flappy.” Then, he mutters, “Funsucker.”

“Prancer,” Prompto suggests.

Noct almost chokes on his juice.

“Yeah, okay, I gotta admit that Prancer is probably worse than Flappy.” Prompto makes to shift around and Noctis lifts himself enough so his weight doesn’t constrict any movements. They end up side to side on the couch; amazing, considering that they’re two teenagers riding down the high tide of their growth spurt. But, unsurprisingly they make it work.

“Might as well name it Junior,” Noct sighs.

“Junior?” Prompto blinks. “Junior for what? You or me?”

Noct chuckles, shaking his head but not giving an answer. 

“Noct? _Noct!_ ” Prompto elbows him. “What if it’s a _girl,_ though? She can’t be ‘Junior’ if she’s a girl.”

“She can be Flappy.”

Prompto groans, sagging down in their weirdly comfortable positions. He starts to seriously think about names not just fit for a chocobo, but also fit for a chocobo that belongs to both him and Noct. He sucks at his fruit punch, twirling the small box around but keeping the straw in place by biting at the end inside his mouth. 

“Nap time,” Noctis yawns as he shifts to dump the empty juice box on the floor next to the rest of his junk food. He then scoots closer to Prompto, throwing a leg over his, an arm loosely wrapped around him as he buries his face into Prompto’s firm arm. 

This is something normal. A reoccurrence; practically daily. Prompto turns to the TV where the show is still paused, mid scene, and then back to the top of Noct’s super messy hair.

He moves a bit, careful not to rouse his best friend. Noct is quick to zone out into sleep world but he’s quick to come back to attention if he’s not given enough time to drift off. And then he gets moody and whiny and even though Prompto enjoys watching _those_ episodes—hey, just because he’s in _love_ does not mean he’s above blackmail!—he doesn’t think he wants one right now. 

A nap sounds good. They can stay awake all night, watch stuff, play stuff, _eat_ stuff so they can be awake when Ignis and Gladio come and crash for the entire ride to Wiz’s.

So Prompto exhales and throws an arm over Noctis too, button-nose tickled by dark hair sticking up at messy, odd angles.

* * *

Apparently, King Regis Lucis Caelum advised Ignis and Gladio, being the oldest of the four and also just a tad—a _big_ tad, really—more responsible than Noctis and Prompto, they make a stop at Hammerhead.

So when Prompto stirs from his uncomfortable nap in the front seat, neck stiff and just a tiny bit of drool at the side of his mouth, this is where Ignis is slowing his car down to. It’s a generously sized garage, next to a small mart and a diner that’s _not_ a Crow’s Nest—which is not _rare_ , but also not _not_ rare.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asks, running a hand through his hair and lifting his sunglasses off his eyes and setting them to rest just above his hairline.

“Just a quick stop and we’ll be on our way,” Ignis replies, his light brown hair a mess rather than the neat way he brushes it to fall over his forehead. “His Majesty’s request.”

“Oh.”

Prompto inhales as he tries to stretch, eyeing the place and looking up at the sky and where the sun’s positioned. He’s a little bummed out that he’s missed the sunrise and a neat opportunity for some shots, but that’s what he gets for pulling an all-nighter.

“Does the King want you to check your car?”

“It’s been due for a quick tune up. Says his friend here can do the job and I want to take advantage of the opportunity. Cid is a whiz at taking care of cars, but I also want to prevent the chance of an accident while we’re driving to the farm.” Ignis yawns a bit, closing his green eyes upon killing the engine of his car.

“You should sleep while it gets tuned up,” Prompto comments.

Ignis hums, sparing him a quick smile before stepping out of the car. “Wake the others, won’t you?”

“No need to wake me up,” Gladio groans. “I’m glad for the chance to move around; my ass is _killing_ me.”

“I stand corrected then,” Ignis says, his lips tilting into a grin. “Wake his Highness up while I talk to Cid, hm?”

Prompto groans, slouching in his seat when Gladio rumbles a knowing chuckle, his amber eyes on him as he lifts his eyebrows once. Then, he’s left alone in the car with a very passed out Noct in the backseat, sagged in an odd position that doesn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“Noct,” he starts to call, still slouched. “Hey, _Noct_.” He reaches a hand over the space between the two front seats, blindly gropes at the air until he finds Noctis’ knee. He grabs it, shakes it a bit. “Wake up, buddy!”

“Prom, quit it,” Noct just about whines. ”M’on vacation.”

Prompto rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, we can relocate to that caravan over there, you can nap on a _bed_!”

Noctis does not reply because he’s fast asleep again. 

“Alright, I’m coming back there, but remember you _asked_ for it.”

Prompto shifts onto his knees in his seat, staring, for a moment, at how Noct’s curled up on all the free space in the backseats. Slacker—that’s what he is. A complete _slacker_. How can someone sleep so _much_? When they’re in school, the only reason he wakes up on time is because he has about ten alarms, all with ten minutes in between each until he finally wakes up from sheer annoyance.

Prompto dips a leg onto the other side, considering that maybe stepping outside and going to the back through the door Noct’s _not_ leaning against would be much easier than this. He drops onto the edge of the seat, just about sitting on top of Noct’s bent legs. 

Of _course_ Gladio and Ignis would leave the hardest task to _him_. Prompto pouts, smacking a hand onto Noct’s thigh. 

“Wakey, wakey, Noct!”

Noctis snaps his eyes open, still glazed with sleep as he looks around the car, then settle his attention onto Prompto. He lifts his upper body up a bit, makes grabby hands for him. Prompto quickly swats them away.

“No more sleeping, dude,” he half-laughs. “C’mon, we’re making a pit stop here. You hungry?”

“Don’t. Just. Shh, shut up. What?” Noctis pulls him down to lie with him, sighing with something like contentment as he curls up and gets comfortable, eyes closed again.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Prompto breathes.

In reply, Noct nuzzles his collarbone, soft and affectionate and really, super, totally intimate.

For a second, Prompto freezes, his stinging eyes wide as he concentrates on the feeling. It’s been a month and a half and he’s really praised himself for not thinking about that night in Luna’s car.

Where Noct held his hand, fingers interlaced and his soft yet callused, warm palm in his. 

It’s not even that he’s pushed it out of thought. It’s just that he doesn’t want to pollute it. Prompto’s good at keeping the sadder, more anxious part of himself quiet. Hides it even as he rides small, tiny waves of anxiety and paranoia while with Noct and their friends. It’s a faulty wiring but he manages to keep it from short-circuiting.

It’s just that sometimes it can get the best of him and that usually happens when Noct’s involved. Because Noct, for all his lazy bad habits and thick, bashful layer, is confident in a way Prompto hasn’t managed to learn to be. And he’s so _great_ and he _held his hand_. 

The last thing Prompto wants is to have a mudslide of bad thoughts, bad ideas and whatever else eat at that memory like termites, twist it all up and have him remember it differently.

“Did you fall asleep?” Noct mumbles, his voice low.

“No,” Prompto quickly answers, startled out of his thoughts of what he hopes is normal and other people feel from time to time, but also from the memory of them holding hands. “No, I’m just waiting for you to get a grip and get up!”

“Don’t want.” Noct buries his face deeper, if possible. “All-nighter was a bad idea.”

“It’s always a bad idea,” Prompto agrees, voice a bit strained.

Noctis lifts his head up and looks at him for a second and Prompto’s just starting to notice how _close_ he is and if he were any other person, if he weren’t taking so long in building his self-confidence, he could reach up and maybe kiss his chin. Or his cheeks. The corner of his mouth?

Noct reaches a hand up to his head, flicks his fingers and gets Prompto’s sunglasses to drop, unceremoniously, back onto his nose.

“Wha--!”

“Hurry up, then, doofus. Let’s go check that diner out or something. Can’t sleep on an empty stomach.”

Prompto watches through his dark lenses as Noctis pushes himself onto his knees and then exits the car. He follows him out, closing the door behind him and wondering if Ignis has had any luck locating King Regis’ friend and if the tune up’s gonna get started soon.

Turning to the garage, he freezes as he watches Ignis speaking to a girl. She looks a bit older than all of them, wearing overalls and a crop-top under it. It’s supposed to look baggy, the Look or something, but it looks… it looks _so good_ on her.

“Hello?”

Prompto blinks and turns to the voice, staring at Noctis staring back at him before turning to look at what’s grabbed his attention. His expression changes, eyes squinted and brow slightly furrowed.

“Right,” he drawls, turning back to him before turning away in general. “ _I’ll_ go check the diner out, then.”

It takes Prompto a second, turning to look at the girl and her short blond curls under a baseball cap. But then he trips as he goes after Noctis,

“Dude?” He drops onto the stool next to him, staring at him. “What the hell, I’m hungry too.” 

“Oh.” Noct doesn’t look away from the menu he’s intently staring at. 

Prompto bites at the inside of his cheek and slowly shifts his attention to the menu. He’s fidgety; the silence between them is awkward and not the comfortable one they sometimes settle into. It’s… It’s _different_ and nothing he’s used to when it comes to their relationship.

“So,” he begins, shifting. “Have… Have you been thinking about any names?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Noctis replies, offhandedly.

Prompto runs a hand through his hair, for once, unconcerned about it being all tangled and sticking out in odd angles. It’s probably too messy to even save since he’s been sleeping in a car, windows mildly rolled down.

“Are you okay?” he finally asks when there’s food in front of them both, and Noct’s shoving six fries into his mouth at once. “I can tell you’re moody off of something, I just don’t know—sfjskdagh.”

Noct’s shoved a half-bitten fry into his mouth. “Shut up, dingus,” he drawls. 

Prompto waits until he swallows before nudging him with his elbow, his knee digging into his thigh as he leans closer. “Can’t be mad if you’re feeding me, right?”

“I’m not mad,” Noctis sighs. “There’s nothing to be mad about.”

“That’s what I was thinking too!” Prompto grins at him and for a moment Noct’s twitching his lips in that faint smile of his, but then it’s wiped off when Prompto next says: “Wanna go talk to that girl after this?”

Noctis shoves three more fries into his mouth, grunting as he shifts to look away from him as Prompto mildly chokes.

* * *

Listen, Prompto Argentum is pretty much, pretty _sure_ , in love with Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. But Prompto is also… flighty, or perhaps _fickle_ is a better word. Both are good words to describe him, in circumstances involving romance. 

In his defense, he’s like a birdbeast: easily attracted to all things pretty. Except in his case, _things_ tend to be _people_. And while he knows damn well how thick, heavy and _real_ his feelings for his best friend, Noctis, are, he also tends to get pretty attracted to pretty people.

It also just so happens that his best friend, Noctis, tends to get annoyed with that little fact.

Wiz’s chocobo farm is surrounded by trees and bushes, grass grown to reach close to the knee. There’s a cabin right at the center where food for chocobos can be bought and off to the side are the stables where chocobos are kept and bred. And way across the street is the signup hut for chocobo races. 

“C’mere Flappy,” Prompto coos as he holds some food out to his (and Noct’s) new baby chocobo. “Look what _I_ got for you!”

Flapperdiginous Floratio Fonda, the Third. That’s the name they decided on for their chocobo child. Flappy, for short. Prompto thinks he may or may not have gotten conned into agreeing to such a _ridiculous_ name because Noct has been Extra Moody since they left Hammerhead and Prompto felt he couldn’t say no. Also because he downright laughed when Noct said the name.

And so, this is how Prompto has landed with a bird child named Flapperdiginous Floratio Fonda, the Third. Flappy for short.

“What a good boy,” Prompto continues to coo, hand running through the baby bird’s feathers. “You’re gonna grow up to be _huge_ and _strong_ and I’m gonna love you so much.” 

“ _Kwueh_!”

“I think he’s saying he loves you too.” Noctis comes to crouch down next to him, his hair messy and his gray-blue eyes on their bird.

“Probably saying hi to you,” Prompto argues but doesn’t look at him. “Weren’t you, Flappy?” 

“Flapperdiginous,” Noct mumbles; his own personal way of cooing and fussing over the little bird.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Gladio calls as he enters the stable. “We’re gonna go for a ride, are you coming or are you still playing House?”

Prompto feels how _hot_ his face has gotten over Gladio’s teasing and choice for words, but Noct is cool and calm next to him, looking at their friend over his shoulder with half-lidded eyes.

“Laugh all you want, Big Guy, but _we’re_ gonna be good parents.”

Gladio looks back at them with clear amusement in his amber eyes, grin wide and almost lecherous but mostly just _amused_.

“We’re coming!” Prompto says, his voice high pitched from how _embarrassed_ he is. Oh, man, he bets his face is all _red_ and _blotchy_.

How does Noct even manage to stay cool when it comes to these things? When Gladio makes teasing remarks about them being a _couple_ or Ignis makes puns that are supposed to hold double meaning that he _thinks_ won’t be caught but _totally are_. Or when _Luna_ hints that they steal her car so they can go and _makeout_ in it or whatever else! 

But then he remembers _he’s_ the one with these feelings and not Noct so it’s only normal for him to get flustered about things that _aren’t_ happening but he sure kinda _really_ wished were. Noct’s just… Well. He’s _Noct_.

“I’m sure you are,” Gladio snickers as he steps aside to give room for Prompto to scurry out 

“ _Dude_ ,” Prompto wheezes.

Noct appears out of the stable, closing it behind him and peering down at Flappy from over the wooden door. “Do you think he’s jealous?”

“ _You_ would know,” Gladio mutters and then grunts when Noct backhands his arm. “I’m just saying! Since you’re, like, what? It’s—“

“ _His_ ,” both Prompto and Noctis stress as they correct him.

“—dad, right? So, parents tend to know when their kids are feeling some type of way.” Gladio runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips together. “What the fuck am I even talking about.”

Ignis waits for them at the renting desk, speaking amicably with Wiz, the owner of the entire establishment. He excuses himself when he sees them, coming their way and pointing a thumb in a certain direction.

“I’ve gotten us four adult chocobos for the duration of the day.” He leads them to four chocobos standing still and allowing saddles to be strapped onto them. “Meet Queen Rhapsody,” he pets the beak of a pale fuchsia chocobo. “Mars Ember,” he taps at a dusty violet chocobo. “Lord Hermes,” he points to a bright blue one. “And Lucky,” he points at a vibrant green chocobo.

“Dibs on Mars,” Noct says.

“I like Queen Rhapsody,” Prompto gushes. “What a sweet name, ya got there, pretty lady.”

“ _Kwueh!"_  

“Aw, she _likes_ me,” Prompto laughs, letting the fuchsia chocobo graze the tip of her beak through Prompto’s hair.

“I’m sure,” Ignis drawls, mounting Lucky. “It’s most definitely not because your hair looks like a chocobo’s ass when it’s unkempt.”

“ _Listen_ ,” Prompto defends.

“Fascinating comeback,” Ignis says. He leads them out towards the open fields, pointing out that there’s a rocky trial that descends down to a lower, much rockier field. “We’re free to go wherever, but we must return by eight." 

“So what, then?” Gladio asks, stifling a yawn. “We stick together or are we splitting up for our dates?”

“What?” Prompto squeaks.

“Gladio,” Ignis rolls his green eyes. “ _Noct_ it out.”

“Har har,” Noctis sarcastically quips.

Without actually coming to a decision of _what_ they’re gonna be up to with their rented chocobos, they take off, their birds trotting lazily under the sun.

Prompto drops his sunglasses back down under his violet-blue eyes. Summer’s when his freckles multiply across his cheekbones, on his forehead, his cheeks and shoulders and he tans _so easily_ ; the only thing he’s able to actually protect are his eyes.

“Nice weather,” Ignis comments as he leads them.

“Too hot,” Noct whines, half-draped over Mars Ember.

“Take your shirt off,” Gladio suggests.

“Listen, just because you like to show off and have people downright ogle you, does not mean all of us do too.”

“ _Or_ ,” Gladio is quick to reply, “you’re just ashamed to show your scrawny body.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Noct retorts. “I _got_ muscles.”

Gladio snickers as they follow a dirt trail into the forest. “Is that right? Is it true, Iggy?”

“Hmm, I don’t recall,” Ignis drawls, adjusting his glasses. “ _Prompto_ might know, what do you think, Prompto?”

Prompto’s just glad he’s put his sunglasses on because this is how the rest of their little adventure continues.

* * *

For dinner, they sit at the small café right outside the renting cabin. There’s supposed to be four plastic chairs around their plastic table but one of them is missing. Broken, Ignis suggests, or perhaps a bigger party has taken it.

The point of the matter is that this is how Prompto finds himself with a lap full of Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.

He’s stiff and awkward and a bit uncomfortable—but not in the i-don’t-want-this kind of uncomfortable because he’s pretty sure he’s feeling something more along the lines of oh-shiva’s-tits-this-is-actually-happening-what-do-i-do-where-do-my-hands-go-i-think-death-is-upon-me. Sounds about right.

It doesn’t help that Gladio keeps sending him little smirks that are far worse than Luna’s Knowing Smiles and if Ignis says _one_ more thing with a double meaning that’s more, ah, suggestive than he’s ever thought Ignis to be, Prompto thinks he’s going to explode.

But, like, this is normal! Totally!

Noctis practically sleeps on top of him, how different can it be to have him sit on his lap?

And where the hell is Wiz so he can find their missing chair?

 _And what is he supposed to do with his hands_?

Noct, for his part, looks unfazed. Unbothered. Composed. _Comfortable_. Like this is no big deal because it probably isn’t. Bros sit on their bros laps, right?

 _Right_?

“How is the accommodation?” Ignis asks, and Prompto would feel nice about him caring except he says the word ‘accommodation’ in a way that sounds _really_ suggestive and so Prompto only grows stiffer. 

“We’re good,” Noct replies. Then, he shifts a bit to look at him from over his shoulder. “Right?”

“Yup,” Prompto manages to say.

Gladio brings his menu really close to his face to hide his cackles. Prompto hates them _all_.

* * *

Eventually things simmer down and the rest of the week goes by with them racing with their rented chocobos or going on little tours. Sometimes they do their own thing, help Wiz around when one of his workers is running late or has called in sick.

What Prompto and Noctis do a lot of is going to check on their chocobo baby, Flappy. They feed him and speak to him, in which the chocobo replies with a kwueh and other chirping sounds. He likes to nip at Prompto’s arms, if only because he finds the freckles there to look like birdseeds or something. Noct laughs a lot at this and Prompto’s heart flutters like crazy.

This is exactly what they’re doing now, sitting on the floor and feeding their bird while speaking to him and each other. Prompto’s really glad Noct’s stopped being moody and he almost wants to voice it but doesn’t want to remind his best friend he was supposed to be annoyed with him over something or other.

“Dad wants to spend a couple of weeks at Galdin,” Noctis tells him, petting Flappy’s floofy body and scratching at the back of his head just to hear him chirp appreciatively. “It won’t be til late August.”

“Your birthday,” Prompto corrects.

“Yeah.” Noct licks his lower lip. “Luna’s coming and Specs and Gladdy will too…”

Prompto looks up at Noct, sucks in air through his teeth when he realizes how _close_ they’re siting and the way Noct’s leaning forward, head dipped down… He’s having flashbacks to Noct holding his hand and Prompto can feel his face grow warm.

“Are you asking me to come?” Prompto asks.

He and Noct are inseparable and wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow right behind, but when it comes to trips with King Regis, Noct always… asks. Like asking him out, almost, except Prompto doesn’t let himself think of it like that.

“Do… you want to?” Noct asks back.

“Do _you_ want me to?” Prompto counters.

Noct snorts and lifts his head up, his smile twisted to one side. “I can’t get rid of you so I’ve gotten used to you by my side.”

“You’re _so_ romantic,” Prompto says, sarcasm practically dripping off every word. 

He picks Flappy up and sets him on his lap, when he looks back up at Noct, he’s staring back at him with a _look_. It’s not one Prompto _knows_ because it’s not one that’s really ever present but he vaguely remembers it. 

It’s the look Noct was wearing when he’d woken up from their nap, the night with Luna’s car, the night Noct held his hand…like he’s doing now, actually. Taking his hand in his, warm as it is, pressing his palm to his, interlocking their fingers.

Prompto looks down and stares. Noct’s a bit tanner than him, but only by the tiniest bit that can only be obvious like this, their skins pressed together. He tries not to hyperventilate, if only because how _lame_ would that be?

“Dude,” he hiccups a laugh, nervous as he is. “PDA… in front of Flappy, too. He’s just a ba—“

The rest of whatever he’s going to say is cut off by Noct clumsily, softly pressing his lips to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter title: the one about it being so obvious to everyone but prompto


	3. the one about it being so obvious to everyone but prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sobbing i cant believe i finished something. just to mention: this fic came into reality bc of my best friend who was like "but imagine noct being under the impression he and prompto were dating the entire time and prompto's just in the background. pining. and luna's in the background, killing herself laughing bc THAT IS NOT HOW YOU DATE PEOPLE NOCTIS" and then this bad boy happened.
> 
> thank you guys for showing such interest tbh it spurred me the hell on to write. lordt knows i cant finish something as easy as a three shot.

Prompto is going to die.

Perhaps he’s being a _little_ overdramatic since he’s been telling himself this same exact phrase over and over again during the remainder of their trip at Wiz’s chocobo farm.

He says it when he’s alone with Noct and Flappy. When they’re strolling through the fields and trotting and gliding on Queen Rhapsody and Mars Ember. When they have dinner with Gladio and Ignis who both look at them—at _him_ —with amused expressions.

Prompto is going to die.

Mostly, because while he’s pretending nothing is out of the ordinary between him and Noct—never mind that he stiffens when he gets close, when their hands brush, and all their usual stuff of draping over each other is kind of _hard_ now because— _Noctis Lucis Caelum, heir to the throne, future King of Lucis, kissed him_.

And while he’s pretending nothing is out of the ordinary, outwardly, _inwardly_ he continues to replay the entire moment.

The nervous laughter he managed to choke up before, _Dude, PDA, and in front of Flappy—_

The kiss. The feeling, the contact. Soft lips, mildly chapped, pressed to his. Soft. Not hesitant but fleeting. Like an afterthought, but the good kind. Like… Like it’s _natural_.

A-and then, Prompto caught between pushing back or leaning in for one more, a longer one, a deeper one, a firm press of lips on lips—or just _sitting there_ dumbfounded.

Naturally, he’d gone with the very last option and stared at Noct with wide eyes, lips parting but not a sound coming out. And, just as naturally, Noct acted as if nothing was wrong, as if this was something they always did. As if it’s only _natural_.

Prompto groans in his seat as they ride back to Insomnia. Why’s he even thinking about this _now_? When Noct’s sitting in the backseats, palm resting on his chin, steel-blue eyes staring out the window.

Prompto does the mistake of looking at him through the rearview mirror, pretending to fix his already messy hair. It’s only _natural_ that Noct feels the weight of the stare, that he tilts his head a bit to look right back at him and, after a moment, give him a wicked grin, the kind they share when they’re normally up to no good. A promise of something—video games, comic books, _more kissing_? Prompto doesn’t even _know_ anymore.

But he’s really super, totally positive he’s going to _die_.

He drops back on his seat, closes his eyes and forces some semblance of a nap so he can survive all this. Because. Truly. Death is surely upon him.

He wakes up at one-fifteen in the morning and both boys are dropped off at Noct’s apartment at one-twenty-six, in which Noct, upon arriving, heads straight to the kitchen to serve himself a bowl of cereal.

“Cereal?” Prompto snickers. “At this hour?”

Noct is a rumpled mess, hair windswept and wilder than normal, his clothes all folded in weird ways because of how long they sat during the drive and he looks half asleep.

Gladio and Ignis were supposed to stay with them, too, but changed their minds in the end. Prompto just hopes it’s not to give them space or privacy because that’d imply they’re dating and. Like. They’re _not_?

“I told Ignis I was hungry and he didn’t want to stop at Kenny’s,” Noct tells him, as if Prompto had no been there to listen to the exchange. “Doesn’t he get that I’m a growing boy and I need _food_?”

Prompto rolls his eyes at this. “You can eat for the four of us and your excuse is you’re growing.”

“I _am_ ,” Noct retorts around a mouthful of milk-drenched cornflakes.

Prompto yawns and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, hurry up so we can sleep. I’m tired and aching. Roadtrips are fun but like. Also not fun.”

Noct points his spoon in the general direction of his bedroom. “Jus’ go sleep, man, you don’t have to wait for me.”

He gives him a funny look at this because when Prompto doesn’t know how to react to something, he hides behind funny looks. It’s something he’s picked up from Noct himself; Luna sometimes likes to talk about the future in which Noct is King and Noct’s response is a furrowed brow, lips twitched into something like a grimace and a disbelieving smile, eyes on her and filled with incredulity.

Now, as Prompto dishes out this exact look, Noct rolls his eyes and waves him away, shifting to lean against the counters as he eats.

Prompto shakes his head and leaves, doing his nightly routine of brushing his teeth and shoving his jeans off in favor of one of Noct’s dark sweatpants. He groans happily when he climbs onto Noct’s bed, pulling the covers up to his chest. Noct’s bed is so _soft_ and _comfortable_ and Prompto’s so sore from the drive. 

He’s drifting off to sleep and hovering at the nice, fine line between conscious and not when Noctis finally comes into the room. He’s quiet, or as quiet as he can be in the dark as he changes clothes, exits to brush his teeth and comes back to close the door with a soft click.

Prompto’s teetered on the ‘conscious’ side, groggy and foggy as he feels, when Noct finally drops onto his side of the bed. He waits but he doesn’t have to wait long until Noct’s scooted close, legs entwined with his, arm lazily dropped across his waist in a halfassed embrace and his face, his soft warm breathing, buried into his shoulder blades.

 

* * *

 

Summer is usually for them to be extra lazy and for the chance to do what they already do every other day, but _longer._  

So they spend hours upon hours binge playing video games, passing new ones and repassing old ones. Sometimes, they think it’s cool enough to go outside and hangout downtown, where most teenagers are, shopping and buying frozen yogurt with sprinkles on top.

Then, there are times where Noctis has to return to the Citadel, where he spends time with his dad and catches up on how the magic bestowed upon their family eats at his lifeline, a cold reminder of what he has to do in the future and who he must become. These are the times where Prompto goes back to his own place, tidies it up as best he can and catch up on some comic books Noct let him borrow centuries ago. 

He’ll spend the day like that, sprawled on his small tiny bed and only getting up for a snack from the grocery bag he’d brought along with him upon his return.

This very day is just like that, in which Noctis makes his way back to the Citadel, cellphone off and clothes less rumpled, hair still messy. Prompto hasn’t heard back from him all day, which, frankly, isn’t unusual.

He’s just about to finish issue 18 of a series Noct had recommended when he hears a very familiar honk just outside. Furrowing his brow, he rolls out of bed and peeks out the window, half surprised but also half not to see Ignis’ car double-parked there. 

Noct looks at him, expression unreadable because of the sun’s setting and the darkness of the sky.

Prompto slips his shoes and grabs a jacket along with his keys. This is something normal in their relationship, where Prompto’s huddled away in his house and Noct appears with a car he’s sneaked off with, mostly Ignis’. Prompto’ll slip into the passenger’s seat and give him an incredulous chuckle and Noct will grin, all crooked and charming.

Now, he looks much sober but he still meets him halfway for a shoulder nudge, lips twitching for a smile but not quite managing.

The drive is quiet and, for once, Noct isn’t driving recklessly. It’s slow and soothing and nothing’s really making any noise except their slow, even breathing and the car’s engine as it hums.

It’s when they’re way over at the other side of the city that Prompto gently elbows his arm. “You alright, buddy?” 

“Sure,” Noct replies. “Just tired.”

“Yeah?” Prompto looks at the radio’s monochrome screen as it continues to ride in silence, turned off. “Your dad’s good?”

“Could be better,” Noctis mutters. But his lips remain parted, as if he wants to say more, and so Prompto waits. Then, “Just hate seeing him like that, you know? Tired. I-it makes _me_ tired because I can’t… really do anything about it. And he doesn’t want me to worry but…” He shakes his head. “He’s my dad.”

Prompto presses his thin lips together, brow furrowed as he looks down at their arms resting side by side on the compartment in between their seats. Noct pulls to a stop at their hill and, soon after, his hand finds his. Palm warm and just a tiny bit clammy, fingers stiff.

For a bit, Prompto stares at this too, watches Noct curl his fingers. And he feels his head start to fog up, his nerves turning soft and shaky. But he curls his fingers back.

The mood never lasts long, Noct’s worry and tiredness. Sure, he feels it for longer than Prompto’ll ever really know, but after they sit in the car on the hill, their palms pressed close as they hold hands, Noct manages to push it aside, set aside for reevaluation when he’s ready. He’s a lot calmer and more like himself and Prompto laughs a bit when he proposes food from the Crow’s Nest.

Which is where they find themselves now, sitting in a booth, facing each other and both entertaining a milkshake.

Noct kicks at his legs—soft, but still hard enough to be insistent. And Prompto, never to be left behind and always up for a challenge like this, kicks him back. They shift from kicking at each other to sliding the toe of their shoes down the length of their calves, nudging and pushing and pulling, interlacing and swinging.

It’s the most he’s seen Noct grin tonight, so it’s worth it. And he really, truly wishes that King Regis didn’t have to perform such magic, like selling his soul to it, if he hasn’t done so already, and he really, truly wishes Noct won’t have to. Being royalty can suck sometimes, or maybe it sucks all the time.

But he really does like easing the load up for him, like helping him forget and remember that aside from being a prince and the heir to the throne, he’s also human and a teenager at that. 

They only stop playing footsies when their food is placed in front of them, to which they eat in some semblance of silence.

“We’ll visit Flappy before school right?” he asks.

Noct looks up from his meat pie sandwich. “What kind of dad do you take me for? Of _course_ we will.”

Prompto grins at him, shaking his head.

“And you’ll still come to Galdin with me, right?” Noct asks moments later.

“Well, _duh_ ,” Prompto replies, rolling his eyes. “Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

Noct doesn’t reply but he gives him a funny look.

Later, after a really late meal and more cruising around a very awake Insomnia, in the elevator taking them up to Noct’s place, Prompto, in his surprise, is backed up against the cool walls as Noct leans in, a hand resting next to Prompto’s head and his lips pressing firmly against his.

 

* * *

 

Kissing happens quite often and each time it catches Prompto off guard. Noct does it is if it were natural, at moments where it only _seems_ like the natural thing to do and each time Prompto’s left floundering and trying to catch up with the moment. 

They never talk about it; Prompto’s too… too Prompto to bring it up and Noct acts like it’s only _right_ and _natural_ except, at one point, it _wasn’t_ because it wasn’t a normal thing that happened, a thing that defined or weighed into their relationship. 

But all through the summer, Noct steals kisses from him. Soft presses of lips, or firm ones that make Prompto get up and, dazedly, excuse himself for a moment.

He maybe _should_ ask what the _hell_ is going on but… Well. The topic makes him jittery and thinking about bringing it up in a conversation with Noct makes him feel like he’s been poured a bucket of ice cold water.

But one day, when all of them are lazily hanging out at Noct’s apartment, enough is enough and Prompto might just explode with the need to know.

Luna’s reading a book, perched on the armchair with a leg crossed over the other. She hums every now and then and looks up to watch the screen as rest of them play their own version of a videogame tournament.

Ignis is actually really damn good at playing and Prompto is _sweating_ because he’s in last place and he will be _damned_ if it ends this way.

It’s a remarkably warm day, the sky is clear of clouds and the windows are partially opened to allow a cool breeze. It’s better than the AC, that’s what Luna said.

What sets him off is this: cuddling. Of all things, what makes him _snap_ is the most normal thing in their relationship, it can practically be considered a foundation threaded into their bond. It’s not the… the kissing, nice as they are but deadly enough to make Prompto think he’ll keel over if he receives _one more_. It’s cuddling.

Cuddling. Which he’s used to.

Noct curls up around him, like a cat and Prompto makes weird noises that, to be honest, can probably rival a dying animal. 

“Is he alright?” Ignis asks and this grabs Luna and Gladio’s attention.

Prompto’s freckled skin _burns_ with the attention and Noct’s curled up around him as if nothing’s wrong. He doesn’t know if he wants to shove him to the floor or kiss him. Probably shoving because it’s easier and not mind-torturing—not that he’ll do it, anyway.

“If you consider going blue in the face ‘fine’, I’m thinkin’ he is,” Gladio offers.

“Prompto,” Luna calls, “Prompto, love, _breathe_.”

“What’s _happening_?” Prompto manages to ask, his voice cracking as he stands up, dropping the controller and forcing Noct to sit up. “I—I’m losing my mind. Like. What are we? What’s _happening_?”

Luna, Ignis and Gladio are suddenly very fascinated but also feeling awkward. But the awkward part is definitely outmatched by the fascination in their expressions, eyes shifting from a slouched, nonchalant Noctis to a frazzled, pacing Prompto.

“What are you talking about?” Noctis asks and Prompto, if he didn’t know the jerk like he knows the back of his hand, is horrified to realize he’s being honest.

He… He really doesn’t know—he doesn’t _get it_.

“You _kiss me_ ,” Prompto just about yells. “More than _once_. You kiss me _many times_. You… what _is happening_ —what _are we_?”

“He’s kissed him?” Luna hisses to the others, in the background.

Vaguely, Prompto thinks the others shrug, just as shocked and clueless.

“We’re dating,” Noct states and his tone implies that it’s the most obvious thing to ever be obvious. 

Prompto opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again… But nothing comes out until he blinks a couple of time, his face _on fire_. “ _What_?!”

Noct looks at him with that look he usually gives Luna, the one Prompto’s picked up. The Funny Look. “Yeah… I thought is was obvious. We’ve been dating for a while now.” 

“ _SINCE WHEN_?!” Prompto screeches, arms waving in the air.

“Six months ago? I don’t—what’s wrong?”

Lunafreya is the first to react, choking on something like a snort as she tries to stifle her laughter but failing spectacularly. “Noctis! You have to _tell_ people when you are dating them! As a matter of fact, you have to _ask_ them if they _want_ to date!”

Prompto is going to die. 

He feels his face, on fire, as if he’s been out in the scorching sun for hours. His ears _burn_ and he can listen to his blood as it all flows up to his head.

“I thought it was pretty obvious,” Gladio mutters to Ignis who gives a single curt nod, lips twitched upwards in an amused but also incredulous smile because _what in the name of Shiva’s tits_ , _Noct_?

“I…” Prompto wheezes.

This is not the way to have this conversation. This is _not_ how it’s _supposed to go_. This conversation? It’s supposed to be _private_ , in which only he and Noct are present as they speak and maybe untangle the knots that unintentionally got caught up i-in… But not like _this_.

Not with Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, ward of King Regis Lucis Caelum, and Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia, Shield and Advisor to the crown prince, within the room and watching the storm as it wrecks havoc.

Not that there’s really any storm to wreck havoc because Prompto’s feeling lightheaded and… and…

“ _What_?” He manages to ask.

“I thought it was _obvious_ ,” Noct defends, finally beginning to get as stressed as Prompto is panicking.

“ _It’s not obvious?! At all?!_ ”

As if Prompto would _ever_ consider Noctis Lucis Caelum, Heir to the Throne and his really dumb, stupid, _ridiculous_ best friend having feelings for him in the same way Prompto’s had feelings for him for, like, _so long_.

As if Prompto’s _anyone_ for Noctis to focus those feelings on.

As if—

Prompto exhales, shakily, and smiles. “I’m gonna go jump off the window now.”

“Oh _please_ , calm _down_ ,” Luna stresses as she stands up, fixing the skirts of her summer dress and turning to Gladio and Ignis. “Well, gentlemen, I feel we’re intruding. Why don’t we let these, ah, _lovebirds_ —“ Gladio’s grin is wide as he and Luna slip a quick high-five. “—resolve their little misunderstanding. I feel I’m going to pull a muscle if I continue to restrain my laugh any longer.”

“Yes, well,” Ignis drawls, standing up, “I feel like we’ve listened to all the good parts. Quite… ribbit-ing, Prince Charmless."

“I get it,” Gladio snorts. “I get what you did there.” 

They make their way out the door without even looking back at them, and it’s not until Luna’s walking out that she gasps, “Oh! Is it because he’s a _frog_ instead of an actual prince charming because of this entire fiasco and how _horrible_ he is at romance? Oh, _I get it_ —well _done_ , Ignis!”

And the door’s closed behind them.

Prompto slowly sits down at the other end of the couch Noct sits on, resting his forehead on his hand as his elbow perches up on a bent knee. “It was _not_ obvious.”

“I thought it was!” Noct scoots closer and Prompto stiffens a bit. “I’m always on top of you or holding your hand or _touching_ you—like it’s pretty fucking gay, Prompto. I’m like really super gay for you, I thought it was _obvious_.”

“I thought you were just a very touchy-feely friendly friend!”

“Yes, Prompto. I’m very touchy-feely. As a friend.”

“Sarcasm is _not okay_ right now.”

Noct sighs and runs an agitated hand through his hair. “I’m so stressed out right now, I need a nap.”

“I…!” Prompto turns to him, inhales long and hard and then exhales it sharply. “I… I’m really super gay for you too.”

Noctis snorts, rolling his eyes. “I know. It’s why I was really sure we were dating. We’re on the same page. I thought it was _obvious_.” 

It’s Prompto’s turn to run an agitated hand through his hair. “It wasn’t! It’s _not_! I don’t get why you would be interested in _me_ —how do you go from crushing on _Luna_ to being into _me_.”

“It was a _short crush_ , stop bringing it up, it’s gross and awkward!” Noct’s face is pink. “And ‘sides. You’re you, like, have you seen yourself, what’s there _not_ to be interested in?”

“Don’t—“

“You’re comfortable,” Noct tells him. “And I’m not good at love confessions; I’m not good with words, you _know that_. But you’re comfortable and dumb and my best friend. I don’t have to tell you things. You just know. There’s just…”

He never finishes the sentence, too awkward to put into words what he’s trying to say but Prompto… Prompto thinks he knows what it is. And he’s dizzy with so much information, the inability to grasp that Noct _likes_ him in the same way _he_ likes _him_.

“I’m gonna flat line,” he mutters to himself and Noct gives him a funny look. “Dude,” he chuckles, “How is it that you’ve surprised me with all those kisses before but haven’t kissed me right now when you probably should?”

He’s speaking the words and maybe they make him sound super bold. In reality, he’s freaking the hell out and his anxiety and habit of putting himself down, the inability to see his self-worth will probably make things awkward for a while.

But Noct leans in close, pauses to hover just before their lips touch, like he’s indecisive, like he’s afraid and trying to make sure. Prompto snorts and laughs a bit, lifting his hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“A little too late for the second-guessing, buddy,” he murmurs just before he closes the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noctis stands at the edge of Galdin Quay's fishing dock, blue eyes intent as he waits for a fish to tug at the line he's cast out. Prompto comes to sit down next to him, skin pink with sunburn and freckles dark and multiplying the longer he's out.
> 
> "You seriously think you're going to catch six fishes for dinner?"
> 
> "Are you _doubting_ me?"
> 
> "A little," Prompto admits, though he does it teasingly. "I'm just sayin' it's a little too much, don't you think? At least you started early."
> 
> Noct scoffs as he flops down next to him, dipping his feet into the water. "At least I'm not gonna wait all by myself."
> 
> Prompto scoffs right back and pulls out his cellphone, pretending to engross himself in an app or a game. Noct doesn't let him, since he takes his hand in his, holding onto the rod with the other. 
> 
> "You're so hilarious when you get all sulky, dude," Prompto snickers, but he curls his fingers to hold his hand tighter. Noct doesn't say a thing, he just traces his thumb across the hills of Prompto's knuckles.
> 
> This, like so much about them and their relationship, is no longer new.


End file.
